Cracker Jack
by Sarruby
Summary: Obama agrees with his employees that Alex Rider deserves thanks- but how to give it? Jack reacts badly to it. One-shot written upon zoey12321's request.


In the US Government:

Barack Obama = President

Dennis Blair = National Intelligence Director

Leon Panetta = Central Intelligence Agency Director

AN: How to respond to this request...

"What if President Obama found out about Alex's 'job'?" -_zoey12321_

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In a brightly light office room, an African American sat, working hard on his computer. It wasn't a particularly cheery scene.

Its brightly furnished decor invited official people into its domain.

An official knocked at the door of this dull workspace. If he had been in a crowd, no one would have given him a second glance unless they had seen his face online or elsewhere.

The rapping sounded through the room. "Enter."

"Hello, Mr. President. My associates and I feel it is our duty to inform you of MI6's latest endeavor."

"Oh? And pray tell, what might that be?"

"They have hired a teenage spy, of sorts. He has proven successful, according to our records, but, as I was not in office at the time, I am unable to provide further detail."

"Why are you telling me this, Dennis?"

"Well, our previous CIA administrator failed to reward the child after he successfully completed, not one, but several missions for us, including a more recent one. The boy has also done several good deeds for the entire country, including rescuing the Air Force One and the Pentagon. Leon thought it might be prudent to extend our thanks to him."

Barack Obama raised his eyebrows. "MI6 really used a kid?"

Dennis Blair paused. "Well, in all fairness, we... had him assist us on missions as well. I must remind you that this is all confidential, of course."

Barack Obama nodded. "Alright, then perhaps we should extend our thanks- I presume he wants no media attention?"

"That's right, sir."

"Then how should we thank him?"

"I'm uncertain, sir. Monetary payments are always appreciated, but this boy is quite young and in a unique situation; he has a rather large inheritance to claim, yet he's used to living on a more normal standard. Money wouldn't go far. He declined seeing the prime minister of England, so I doubt he'd like to meet you."

The President thought. "Could we just ask him?"

"No, sir. He'd likely think we were trying to recruit him again."

"Is there any way we could ask?"

"His guardian is an American, sir, but she detests secret services."

"Very well. I believe we have an obligation to thank him, so contact her at once and decide from there. May I leave this matter in your hands, Dennis?"

"Of course, Mr. President." Dennis Blair took that as a dismissal.

Barack Obama watched Dennis Blair start to leave when a final question crossed his mind. "One last thing- what's his name?"

"Alex Rider."

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Whereas it was afternoon in Washington DC, it was evening in England. Alex was preparing a dinner of pasta while Jack made the brownie batter- Alex would handle it after 10 minutes.

"How's the spaghetti, Al?"

"It's coming- don't you have a patient bone in your body?" Jack rolled her eyes and shook her head. When Alex turned back to the stove, she glanced worriedly at his back. His last mission had been particularly bad, according to the psychologist MI6 provided. Although no details were given, she had been told that Alex was captured once again.

Jack was now cleared for any British national secrets, if Alex wanted to tell, but he gave her a slightly toned-down version of his latest adventure out of habit. The last time he hadn't, she had called MI6 and ranted until she found out it was the wrong number.

"Now is it done?" Alex sighed and stepped aside. Jack stepped forward and used the spoon to lift out a single strand after a bit of struggling. It stuck to the ceiling.

Alex smiled thinly and put the pasta into a serving dish. The microwave dinged and Jack removed the marinara sauce with meatballs. Alex put the brownies in a dish and placed them into the oven. He then served the broccoli at the table Jack had set.

It was time for a quiet home meal.

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Dennis Blair looked at the time. In England, he guessed, it would be around dinner time.

In a mere hour, Dennis' underlings had recovered all the data available on Jack Starbright. Red-hair, blue eyes, her birthday, history- most everything. Most importantly, her current phone number.

Within his head, he rehearsed his lines. "Hello, is this Jack Starbright?"

She would answer yes, possibly asking his name.

"My name is Dennis Blair, and I would like to speak with you about your ward, Alex Rider."

Jack would want to know about what.

"Well, I'm director of National Intelligence, and I was wondering how we could thank him for all the services he has provided to us. The new administration felt it prudent to extend our gratitude."

And Jack would tell him what it was. They would exchange polite farewells, and this case would be closed.

At least, that's what he hoped.

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The phone rang in the Rider household. Alex jumped, dropping and shattering a plate he had been clearing from the table. Jack took in his startled reaction and immediately answered the phone. Alex still hadn't told her about his latest mission, and she was terribly concerned.

"Clean that up, Al." She spoke into the phone. "Yes, this is Jack Starbright, who's speaking?"

Dennis Blair didn't hesitate. "This is Dennis Blair, and I would like to speak with you about your ward, Alex-"

"No, that won't be necessary. I'm so sorry, but he's out right now, and he's not available for any jobs," Jack snapped. She hung up the phone.

Alex looked up at the word "jobs", a deep fear nestled in his retinas but nonexistent in his other features. Jack sighed and ran a hand through her hair. She answered his imploring gaze, "It's alright. Here, let me clean that up."

Alex willingly stepped back and let Jack claim the dustpan. "When the oven goes off, just take the brownies out, alright? I've got to..." Alex searched for an excuse to leave.

"It's alright, Alex- just go, okay?" Jack's smile died off when Alex's dark face didn't lighten.

"Jack, who was that?"

"Dennis Blair, the director of American National Intelligence." Jack wished she hadn't answered when Alex's expression lightened- the florescent lights reflected more off his paled face.

"Oh." Alex didn't even bother to provide an excuse- he just walked out of the room and up to his bedroom.

Jack morosely swept up the last of the shattered plate and took out the brownies when the timer went off.

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Dennis Blair stared at the phone for a minute, then recomposed himself. Jack had obviously heard of him- perhaps she kept tabs on the American government? It didn't matter; he had tried, and thus the matter was closed.

Right?

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AN: Thanks for reading!

**Review only if you want to.**_  
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